The more I travel the more I get to know myself. If given an opportunity I would readily exchange my unearthly work hours with a life of a nomad.Of course that is not possible, taking into consideration my financial status which is nothing to crow about. Maybe later, when I have some money in the bank I will take a year off and go train spotting. 

Anyways the train journey was taxing to the body, which is nothing out of the ordinary because the Indian railways is not desinged, keeping the travellers interest paramount. But the sights were a succour to the tired eyes. The green pastures were smooth as silk, cut into patches of irregular shapes. The gust of wind sent a ripple through the mass of green silk, it was a beautiful sight to see.  The scare crow stood swaying in the wind its arms outstretched as if welcoming the winged creatures into its embrace.  The farmers in their white turbans crouched low, busy with their sickles removing the unwanted vegetation.  

The flora and the fauna showed a diversity that had to be seen to be believed. The grass invariably grew along the track as if  they had forged a special bond with Indian railways. The blades were sharp as scissors. I bet you could have cut an apple in half with it. There were patches of green which were intermingled with blotches of yellow. The  pumpkin looked so appetizing that you felt like taking some home so that mother would cook something hot and filling. And you could have taken  the silk patches of green to your backyard so that you could have slept on the silken bedspread soaking in the lazy sunday sun. 

The rivers were swollen and angry, the water was the color of earth, dark earthy brown. So seductive that you would have gladly taken a plunge into the cool and refreshing                          sea of brown and red. The nullah had the dark stagnant water, which supported various kind of insects and vegetation. The water was foul smelling maybe it contained some kind of industrial waste.     

The walls were splashed with various kinds of adverts, with hashmi davakhana taking the cake. There were close contenders like edwards davakhana and shafi davakhana but there was no beating the original macoy. Hashmi davak khana ruled the roost and it gauranteed to cure all kinds of ailments and dammit it was established in the year 1929. The extent of  the advertisement must have created some kind of record because you could see it eveywhere. Spread over 700 kilometres, it was painted on the walls, the buildings had it spray painted on it in white. Somewhere the lines blurred, but the spirit of hashmi's davakhana reigned everywhere. Wonder how it was done. Maybe the wonder boys pulled the chain wherever they wanted to paint an advert. That would have been the cost effective way. But taking into consideration the the traveller who is a harried lot, the chances of that happening would have been zero. Maybe hashmi payed the local painter to get the work done. The walls had numbers on them spray painted in white. The numbers have gone into my head. I wonder what does the number 301 spray painted in white on a wall next to the railway track signify. Must be some kind of secret code. 

There were some trees that came right from horror flicks. The tree were old, and grew on the slimy greyish walls, The roots were gnarled, and took their sustenance from the blackish stagnated water that flowed underneath. I wonder what kind of living thing could take its sustenance from water that was so foul.

The weather was quite pleasant, and that made the journey more tolerable. Maybe it had rained in these parts that is why the wind carried the smell of the drying grass mingled with the wet earth. As the day drew to a close the womenfolk got busy with their cooking. The smoke hung around with the trees maybe they were pals. Maybe they were socializing at the end of the day. The bluish white haze hung around with the trees before drifting away with the white swans. The sun had set and the cloud above turned a reddish orange in stark contrast to the darkish blue sky. The trees brooded in silence. The meadows were dark and quiet, mysterious like  a distant dream.

The night poured in, darkness reigned. There was no electricity in sight. Occasionally you could see a fire burning in the night, maybe somebody was cooking the last meal of the day. The family would have been huddled next to the fire. The pot would boil over with its ingredients spilling over  making disgruntled hisses as it came in contact with the fire. Meanwhile Sheru the dog sidled over looking at the congregation expectantly.

Sometimes a train rattled along on the next track. Of course you could make nothing of the occupants in the other train even though you tried hard. The bogies created a ruckus creating a shock wave that made the train bob and weave. Soon it was gone. Gone to another place, scattering its passengers along the length and breadth of India.   

The train rushed towards the station and then it paused. After that it woke up in fits and starts, finally wheezing into the station 30 minutes late. The train always takes a breather near alamnagar. Maybe it is tired after running all day long.